


you (soft and only)

by ghosthuntergay



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Jon/gerry/martin, Fluff, Gerard Keay Lives, Getting Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing a Bed, Trans Gerard Keay, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, its my fic I get to project on all the characters, jon and gerry both have adhd i dont think i mention it but like yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthuntergay/pseuds/ghosthuntergay
Summary: Scenes in the life of Jon and Gerry, and eventually Martin, as they try their hardest to have the domestic life they deserve despite everything
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first tma fic! I'm very soft for jongerry and jongerrymartin and they deserve to be happy so. here we are  
> title from just like heaven by the cure obviously
> 
> content warning for brief alcohol mentions, nothing major though
> 
> playlist I wrote this chapter to [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tLHO8DsVfJgly0KIyLMgh?si=SX05WoJPRvez8aIA1PxaWg)

Gerry lets himself into the flat, wincing slightly at the loud creak of the door. He’s been reminding Jon to get that sorted for _months_ now – maybe tomorrow he’ll leave a sticky note on the fridge and see if that works. It’s tempting to just walk in and collapse into bed – it’s definitely late? early? enough to justify that – but instead he shrugs off his bulky leather coat and carries it into the living room, where Jon seems to have fallen asleep. Whatever history documentary he had been watching is still running, but the lights are switched off, and Gerry has to half-feel his way through the cluttered room. He can just about make out the shape of his partner curled up under a blanket in the soft blue light of the screen, and his heart gives a little tug at the sight.

  
“Shoes _off_.”

  
Gerry jumps, his coat slipping out of his arms and onto the floor with a hefty thud, and then barks out a laugh.   
“Yeah, yeah, _alright_. Jesus, Jon, I thought you were asleep.” It wasn’t an unfair assumption, considering the hour, but Gerry sometimes forgets that Jon’s internal body clock seems to be just as irreparably fucked as his own. He scoops his coat back off the floor and drapes it over the back of the sofa, where Jon has sat up and is watching him with eagle eyes, before retracing his steps to the hallway to begin the long process of unbuckling his boots.

  
“I was waiting for you to get in,” comes Jon’s reply, punctuated by a yawn and what he would vehemently deny to be a pout, and - _well_. That's just unfairly sweet. Gerry sticks his tongue out at him, which can roughly be translated to _‘I love you, stop being so cute’_ , to which Jon rolls his eyes, which in turn definitely means ‘ _stop deflecting my affection and come sit with me I missed you’._ Gerry has to suppress a grin, because Jon’s exaggerated annoyance in combination with the knitted blanket currently thrown around his shoulders is frankly adorable, but he’s not sure that’s something Jon would let him say without some complaint.

  
“Good night?”   
Gerry hums his reply affirmative. It hadn’t been anything special, just a little pub gig, but it had been a great set, and it was nice to catch up with some familiar faces. He drops himself onto the sofa before leaning into Jon, whose long fingers begin gently pulling Gerry's hair from the braid he'd put it in to keep it out of his face. The exhaustion is hitting him now, not helped by the pints he’d drunk at the gig, nor the canned cocktail he’d shared with a friend on the tube to Jon's. He buries his face in the crook of Jon's neck, grateful that his partner runs colder than him and immediately abusing that to cool his alcohol flushed face. Jon chuckles at this, and continues running his hands through box-dye black hair.

  
“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Gerry mumbles. It’s muffled only slightly by Jon’s shoulder, and Gerry knows he’s been heard when a soft kiss is placed on the top of his head. “Watch anything good?”

“There _was_ a documentary on the Saxons, but I seem to have missed some of it due to a home invasion at the hands of some drunken punk.” It’s an easy jab, Jon knows how easy it is to get Gerry ranting on the variations between alt subcultures - especially because Gerry _knows_ Jon knows the difference, he’s seen the evidence of Jon’s own punk phase - but it’s nearly two in the morning so he mostly lets it slide, raising one hand high enough that he knows it’s obscuring Jon's view of the television before flipping him off. This gets him another laugh, before Jon catches the hand with his own and pulls it closer to his face so he can place a kiss on the tattooed eye on the knuckle of Gerry’s middle finger. He snorts and presses a kiss to Jon’s shoulder in return, resting his eyes for a minute whilst Jon goes back to playing with his hair.

  
At some point, Gerry must have drifted off because eventually he’s being woken by Jon's subtle attempts to stretch his legs. He sits up from where his head has fallen into Jon's lap and lets out a yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth in favour of stretching both arms before letting them fall around Jon.

  
“Documentary finished?”  
Jon nods, obviously half-asleep himself by this point.  
“Right then. Bed?”

  
“Yes, I think that’s probably a good idea.” Jon slides his glasses off his faces to rub at his eyes, and Gerry uses this as an opportunity to grab a thin wrist and press a kiss to his knuckles, a mirror of Jon’s earlier action. They’re not usually this affectionate - Gerry’s a touchy person and Jon tends to cling to anything he can get, touch starved as he is, but they’ve been together long enough now that they’re comforted just by existing in the same space - but things have been… 

Well. Not exactly _rough_ , per se, but certainly a little different, lately. Gerry had never liked Jon working at the Institute in the first place, but given that that’s how they met, he couldn’t exactly complain. 

He had complained about him taking up the Head Archivist position, though. He’d complained about that a _lot._

 _That_ had been a rough patch, _this_ was just the product of not seeing each other in a while. A combination of Jon working late and Gerry working early, not to mention the fact that he’d started hunting Leitner’s again, for the first time since he’d come back from America. Not often, one every couple of months if that, just to help feel like he was still contributing something _good_ to the world.

Jon hadn’t been happy, when Gerry had first told him, but Gerry had joked that it _seriously_ messed with his image if _Jon_ of all people had a more dangerous job than him now. That hadn’t been the end of that discussion, but it had certainly given Gerry the upper hand, and so the Leitner hunting had continued.

He’d only gotten back to London today from his most recent trip - a false lead in Manchester - and the gig tonight had been the perfect excuse to drop by Jon’s flat, it being far closer than his own. He doesn’t _like_ being away from Jon, but Gerry can’t help appreciate all the extra attention it gets him when he comes back. Like now, Jon sitting him down on the bed and fussing over his face with a bottle of micellar water and some cotton pads. They’re both stupidly tired, and Gerry’s still feeling the lingering buzz of the drinks he’d had earlier, and it's just _nice_. Nice enough that he bats away Jon’s hand from where he’s undoubtedly just making more of a mess of Gerry’s lipstick in order to pull him down for another kiss. 

Jon pulls back almost immediately to pull a face, his nose wrinkling. “You taste like makeup remover.”

Gerry can’t help but laugh. “And who’s fault is that?” He should probably get up, go to the bathroom to take his makeup off properly so he doesn’t end up with lingering panda eyes in the morning, but he’s far too comfortable here on the bed, with Jon practically in his lap. Well, he _would_ be comfortable, if he wasn’t acutely aware of the seams of his jeans digging into his thighs thanks to wearing them for over twenty-four straight hours. “Help me get these off?”

He lets himself fall against the duvet, lifting his hips to try and wriggle out of the tight fabric whilst Jon pulls at the cuffs around his ankles. Jon grumbles something about how _‘ridiculous’_ it is for Gerry to _‘still be wearing these things at his age’_ , and Gerry reminds him of the drainpipes he’d found in Jon’s own wardrobe not so long ago, but they’re both laughing by the time Gerry is finally denim-free. 

Jon’s been wearing his sleepwear no doubt since the minute he’d got home, desperate to keep his _‘work self’_ and _‘real self’_ separate; soft pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that may have once been Gerry’s or may have once been Georgie’s or may genuinely have belonged to Jon himself in the first place, threadbare and baggy and only faintly still advertising some small band that probably doesn’t exist anymore. Gerry doesn't actually _own_ any sleepwear, let alone keep any at Jon’s, but there's a thin grey hoodie that’s lived here since the first time he’d stayed, and he changes into this because Jon’s apartment somehow gets even colder at night.

The lights weren’t turned on in the first place, so when Gerry _finally_ gets to collapse properly into bed, there’s nothing delaying Jon from curling up next to him and immediately shoving his hands under Gerry’s hoodie to steal some of his body heat. Gerry whines at this, mentally retracting his earlier appreciation for Jon's low temperature, but the way Jon traces the twin scars on his chest, matching with Jon’s own, is soothing enough that he can’t actually complain.

Jon falls asleep before he does and, despite how thoroughly exhausted he is, Gerry can’t help but watch him sleep for a while. It’s partially to make sure he’s sleeping _well_ \- it’s a common enough occurrence for one, or both, of them to wake up shaking from night terrors, and although he can’t do much to help, he wants to fall asleep knowing Jon is actually resting - but also because the way the bright streetlight falls through the shitty bedroom blind highlights the small patch of silvery hairs at Jon’s exposed temple. 

He used to tease Jon about his premature greying, but it’s increased rapidly since his promotion, and now it’s more of a cause for concern than anything. Not that either of them are bothered about the greying _itself_ \- although Jon can be a little self-conscious about it sometimes, Gerry had laughed for days when he’d found out Jon’s been using it to his advantage to seem older at work. It’s just slightly worrying that the Archives are already stressing Jon out _this_ much. 

Still, in the orange glow of the light, Gerry can’t help but think it looks sort of _pretty_ , and it’s whilst he’s musing over that, thinking about how he’d like very much to paint Jon one of these days, in warm lighting and smiling and free of the stress of the Archives, that he drifts off to sleep too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to the first time Gerry spent the night at Jon's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's been a While since i posted the first chapter of this huh? please take this soft jongerry content as an apology. no martin,,, yet,,,  
> content warning for very brief mentions of going to a pub, as well as a very brief mention of chemotherapy, although no detail is given on either of these 
> 
> this chapter was written to [gerry's chill playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4xonO6SQqH6onOymGf4LKn), but you can find his main playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6OYGSA6HxiFAgnq5zwyANM), and jon's main playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4v81gmnECfZrybXbE8khKu) as well as his fun one [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2cOD8saAQwjDjsg98ZwXqA)
> 
> this fic has a [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/caejxnes/fic-you-soft-and-only/)!

The first time Gerry had slept at Jon’s flat had been completely unplanned. 

It was a miserable day, typical London weather, and Gerry had been halfway across the city waiting for a delayed tube when Jon texted him.  _ ‘Work meeting running late, so no need to rush over. Sorry to be a pain.’  _ By the time the two met outside of Gerry’s station and awkwardly ran towards their usual Costa, it had closed.

_ ‘Not the end of the world’ _ , Gerry thought. It wasn’t like they couldn’t sit and chat somewhere else - there were enough options for coffee places across the city.  _ ‘Just as long as we can get out of this bloody rain.’  _ He was about to suggest trying the Neros down the street, which tended to stay open later, when Jon had spoken up first.

“My flats actually not too far from here, if you wanted to? We could just, you know,” Jon trailed off, tugging on his shirt sleeves in a nervous gesture that Gerry hadn’t seen from him since their first couple of dates, but he’d felt himself smiling already.

“Yeah! Yeah, that sounds great, actually.”

The coffee dates had been routine for a few months by that point, a day or two every week where they would meet at the same crowded Costa and trade stories about the last few days. Jon would complain about his work in research, and Gerry would offer whatever mildly interesting thing had happened at his art class. Occasionally they would do something different - a pub on a few Friday evenings, a museum or gallery trip here and there, on one occasion a concert that they had both already been planning on going to anyway - but the idea of an evening at Jon’s flat was something  _ new  _ and Gerry couldn’t help but immediately agree. He  _ liked _ Jon and, although he hadn’t really ever had the chance to do the whole ‘serious dating’ thing before, he figured that spending time at each other’s places probably indicated that things were going decently well, right?

The walk really wasn’t that far, and it probably took even quicker with the half-jog they were both doing, but the rain had picked up and made it feel far longer than it should have been. Gerry had pulled the collar of his leather jacket up over his head like Jon vaguely remembered doing with his secondary school blazer, and Jon had been making a point to tell him how ridiculous he looked when a car had driven through one of the puddles forming in the road, and Jon’s entire back was suddenly soaked through.

Gerry shook with silent laughter whilst Jon half-heartedly glared at him, until Gerry gave in and returned the look with a mocking pout.

“Here, you’ll get cold like that,” he shrugged the jacket off and wrapped it around Jon’s shoulders. “Now _you’re_ the ridiculous-looking one, look how big that is on you!”

Jon spluttered indignantly, “I’m not  _ that  _ much shorter than you. And don’t be an idiot, there’s no point in you getting rained on when I’m soaked now anyway.” He moved to give the jacket back, but Gerry shook his head.

“Honestly, Jon, I’m fine. Just get us back to yours, yeah?”

Jon’s flat was in an old building, a few floors up. The lift was broken, and the flights of stairs were carpeted with a grimy blue that Jon said reminded him of his primary school classrooms. Gerry liked that about Jon - he spouted seemingly random pieces of information, answering questions Gerry hadn’t had the chance to think of, let alone ask. It was cute, that Jon wanted Gerry to know these things.

The flat itself was cluttered in the way Gerry had expected of Jon. Lots of bookshelves - all seemingly overflowing with books, but Gerry knew there was a definite organisational system to them - and lots of empty tea mugs littered across various surfaces. The coat pegs by the front door were loaded with an array of jackets that Gerry definitely wanted a closer look at (there was no  _ way  _ this man,  _ Jonathan Sims _ , was keeping up his uptight reputation at work whilst owning that many patch jackets. It wasn’t possible.), and as he was led into the living room he noticed photographs scattered across the walls and various surfaces, vaguely recognising one of the reoccurring figures as another researcher from the Institute.

“Well, this is home,” Jon announced, almost sheepishly.

“It’s nice,” Gerry noted. “Cozy. Very you.”

Jon rolled his eyes at this, before moving back towards a door that Gerry assumed led to a bedroom. “Oh! Er, here,” he paused, taking off Gerry’s jacket as if he’d only just remembered he was wearing it, “Could you hang this up whilst I put something slightly less damp on? And leave your shoes by the door, please.”

Gerry nodded, not that Jon could see it with how quickly he retreated into the bedroom, and hung up his coat with the many other in the hall. At the back of his mind, he thought there was something to be said about how well the old leather fit in with Jon’s collection of denim, and he took a moment whilst unbuckling his boots to read some of the patches on the jacket closest to him. A few folk-punk band references, some pride-related paraphernalia, nothing that _ really  _ surprised him that much after knowing Jon for a while. Gerry had a few patch jackets of his own, back at his own apartment, although his well-worn leather coat was almost entirely bare. As he retrieved his phone from the inner pocket, the familiar nametag greeted him as always, black text on white fabric reading  _ ‘Eric Delano’ _ from where it was untidily stitched over the brand logo.

Gerry waited in the living room, watching the rain through the balcony doors until Jon returned and finally boiled the kettle. They settled down at the coffee table with a tea and a Nesquick chocolate milkshake Jon had offered after admitting he didn’t actually own any coffee. It was still gloomy out, enough so that Jon turned on a lamp, which flooded the room with warm light. It was, admittedly, a lot nicer than their usual Costa.

They chatted about the usual things, Jon complaining about his coworker Tim, who Gerry recognised as the man from the photos - clearly, Jon was fonder of him than he let on -, and Gerry updating Jon on how the disposal of the last of Pinhole Books’ old stock was going. 

Gerry appreciated that about Jon, that he  _ understood _ . After years of trying and failing to connect with the real world, it was refreshing to have someone he could talk to about shit like man-eating books because, as much as Jon liked to play the sceptic, at least a Gerry didn’t have to pretend he lead a completely normal life to him. In a way, Gertrude had made a perfectly fine companion for the same reason, until they’d parted ways back in America. He liked Jon a fair bit better, though, in retrospect.

As the evening wore on, Jon had suggested dinner, and curry was ordered and shared sat on the rugged floor of the living room, thanks to a complete lack of space on the dining table in the kitchen. Jon suggested a film, so Gerry logged into his Netflix to find a period horror interesting enough to appeal to both of their attention spans, and Jon pulled the knitted blanket off the back of his sofa to throw over their laps and lent into Gerry’s shoulder. Gerry put his arm gently around his waist and Jon moved in closer, resting his head properly as though to show Gerry he had full permission to  _ actually  _ cuddle him.

For all the months of coffee dates and time spent together, for all they had clicked so well and Jon had quickly become not just the guy he liked enough to be dating but also probably his best friend, they’d never had the chance to just relax around each other like this. It was unbearably domestic, and nothing like what Gerry had ever pictured for himself. He found himself hoping that he wouldn’t fuck this up.

He didn’t know whether he had fallen asleep first or Jon had, but at some point Gerry was being gently woken up by Jon’s hand carding through his hair. It had been shorter then, still slowly growing out from the chemo, but it was long enough to flop back into his face when Jon stopped.

“Hey,” he had said. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Jon replied, voice slightly rough from sleep. “We missed the end of the film.”

Gerry couldn’t help but laugh at the way Jon’s mouth turned down at this, at the little crease between his eyebrows, the fact that he was pouting over some cheesy horror. Then he checked the time on his phone and groaned.

“Shit, think I’m gonna miss my train.”

Jon paused, and Gerry could practically see him running the calculations in his head before he offered, “You’re welcome to stay here. Obviously.”

“If that’s okay? I don’t want to be a pain, I can probably call a cab.”

“Gerry it’s  _ fine _ , I’ll take the sofa and you can borrow some clothes, I must have something that would fit you.”

“I can’t make you sleep on your own sofa Jon, don’t be an idiot.”

“Maybe I  _ like  _ sleeping on the sofa.”

Gerry raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, no, I don’t like sleeping on the sofa.”

“I mean- obviously, only if you’re comfortable, I don’t want to push any boundaries here - I’m not completely against the idea of sharing?” Gerry had suggested, unsure if he was pushing his luck as far as Jon’s hospitality went. He held his breath as Jon’s eyes searched his face, only letting it out again when Jon let out a small smile.

“I think I could work with that arrangement.”

Jon lent him a pair of pyjama trousers that came up a few inches short, and Gerry changed in the cramped bathroom, rinsing his face before gently knocking on Jon’s bedroom door.

“Oh, you can come in,” Jon had replied, and when Gerry pushed the door open he found Jon sat on the edge of his bed wearing what looked to be an old Ramones shirt, of all things.

“You are absolutely going to have to tell me about your sordid punk past one day, you know,” Gerry commented, pulling lightly on the worn sleeve of the t-shirt.

“I hardly keep it a secret from you,” Jon replied, lightly batting Gerry’s hand away before shuffling over as if to encourage him to sit down. “I’m sure Georgie has a stash of photos from uni, if you’re that desperate to see evidence.”

Georgie, Gerry had been told, was Jon’s ex from uni, and the owner of the orange cat that had been Jon’s lockscreen when they first met. Gerry had never met Georgie, but he’d listened to some of her podcast and found it endearingly cheesy. Jon had recently reconnected with her after he had recounted their dramatic parting of ways to Gerry one night at the pub, at which Gerry had commented that he was probably reading too far into things and that he should probably try just talking to Georgie, if he missed her friendship so much. This had been a month or so ago, and Jon had since reported back that things seemed to be okay with them, which was nice, and every so often Jon would forward photos of the Admiral that he had been sent to Gerry, which was even better.

“I’ll hold you to that, Sims.” Gerry began to move the duvet to get under it when he stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask, do you prefer to sleep on a certain side, or?”

Jon nodded, “Ah, yes, actually. I have to sleep on my right, I managed to damage my left ribs binding when I was younger and they still give me trouble if I sleep on them, stupid I know.”

“I meant side of the  _ bed, _ but that works too,” Gerry chuckled, moving so Jon had space to lay down comfortably and then turning to face him. 

“Jon,” Gerry whispered into the dark after Jon had switched off his lamp.

“Gerry.”

“You should get a cat.”

Jon laughed, clearly not expecting that to be what Gerry would say. “I can’t, the landlord doesn’t allow pets.”

“Do you want me to persuade your landlord?”

“Please refrain from threatening my landlord, Gerry.”

Gerry stuck his tongue out at him, only feeling slightly childish. “You’re no fun.”

Jon laughed again. It was a nice laugh, Gerry thought. “Goodnight, Gerry.”

Gerry couldn’t help but grin, despite how tired he was. Jon moved so his head was tucked below Gerry’s chin, and he felt his smile grow softer.

“Night, Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jon! and! tim! were! friends! damn! it!  
> i also want to say that in regards to the gertrude thing, i don't think gerry hates her or anything but he definitely has some complicated feelings towards her, especially after america - more on that later tho  
> also. please bind safely take my word for it you really Don't want long term rib pain 
> 
> thanks for reading!! once again updates are all over the place atm, but you can find me on tumblr [gerry-keays](gerry-keays.tumblr.com) or twitter [caeejones](https://twitter.com/caeejonesl) or on my art Instagram [desolationr0w](https://www.instagram.com/desolationr0w/) if you want!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! updates might be a little all over the place because writing motivation is uhhh hard to come by these days but there Will be more uwu
> 
> also I'm on tumblr @gerry-keays and twitter @caeejones if you want to talk to me about tma!


End file.
